Johnn Schroeder


Remembering is hard sometimes,
echoes, echoes, paths we have trod.
Old dreams and nightmares chime,
recalling pathos on the path to God.

Old names and faces etched into time’s flow,
come back with sadness; their passing reminds.
There is a named wall deep inside you know,
I visit it sometime, they’re in all Vet’s minds.

Old tears, old pains, and old aches of the soul,
age us and gage us to a fine point indeed.
Quiet old men with memories still too whole,
recalling the heartbreaks, the last bitter seed.

Part of the cost we carry inside, a hard price to bear;
yet we honor those who we had to lose there.
We remember them often, and it lays our souls bare,
old soldiers, and sailors, and airmen still care.

That’s why we honor the one’s who stand there now,
we know the weight that they carry, as we did before.
They are our heroes and we share their Tao,
supporting them where others treated us like whores.

Honor the ones who stand there for you,
they stand tall and unbowed to be there at all.
Let none be forgotten and all that they do;
give them their dues for answering that call.